


I'm Still Alive (But I'm Barely Breathing)

by GhostCwtch



Series: JaegerconBingo Fills [11]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Again, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Gen, borderline suicidal thought process, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostCwtch/pseuds/GhostCwtch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, it feels like there's an open wound deep inside his chest and he's expected to breathe around it like it's not even there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Still Alive (But I'm Barely Breathing)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fill for the "injury" square on Jaeger Bingo.
> 
> Once again, I can't seem to write anything happy for this fandom.

The worst part, really, is that he can go from being on top of the world, his whole life planned and set to be this happy _forever_.  And then, then something happens. Or doesn't happen. Either way, the shift can be a split second, no warning, and all the things he's ever done are shit. His plans are stupid and he's ruining his life but trying to follow them and _what was he thinking?_  
  
He'd been manic in the months leading up to the final surge. It's longer than his normal manic phases and he'd stopped taking his meds _again_ because of course he doesn't need them. Look at him, he's a fucking rockstar! Those pills are just weights around his neck and he doesn't need them. Didn't.   
  
Today though. Well, it's been a week since the breach closed and about three hours since his latest blow up with Hermann and everything is gone to shit. He doesn't want to leave the Shatterdome. He hates being in Hong Kong but he'd rather live in the fucking Boneslum than move back to the life he was living before. He liked the immediate results and the intensity of working on the Breach and with the kaiju, coming up with new ways to defeat them even as they evolved to counter the weapons used against them.  
  
That's all gone now.  
  
Light spills over him, but he doesn't bother to roll over. So what if someone's just opened his door? No one around here would even fucking notice if he died. Except maybe, well, Hermann would notice. Maybe.  
  
"Oh, Newton."  
  
He doesn't respond, but he can feel the shameful heat of tears streaking his face and making his pillow unpleasantly damp and hot. He hears the clink of a coffee mug onto his bedside table and a warm, heavy hand rests on his upturned shoulder.  
  
It would be easier, he thinks, if this was a physical injury. If people could look at him and see this raw and aching place inside him that makes him so weighed down with a twisting, invisible agony. When blinking and breathing are acts of monumental effort. If there was some sign, some signal to the world at large that could say that he is wounded and sick at heart, maybe that would be better.  
  
The hand on his shoulder rubs his arm. Hermann, at least, knows what it's like. He's been in Newt's head now, so no more denying it. And in a way, that feels a bit like bandaging the wound. It's still there, and it still hurts, but maybe he can hold onto the hope that it will heal a bit with time.  
  



End file.
